


Empty Handed

by evaunit0



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Pining Shiro (Voltron), set in s4e1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaunit0/pseuds/evaunit0
Summary: Shiro's always been the one to say goodbye, and it doesn't sit well with him to be on the other end of the door closing. | Written forSheith Quote Week Day 3:It's killing me when you're away.





	Empty Handed

**Author's Note:**

> is it really a prompt week if there isn't at least one e rated fic by me like c'mon

Watching the door shut as Keith walked away hurt more than he thought it would.

He didn't wait to say goodbye. He didn't talk with him about the Blade beforehand. He didn't ask for Shiro's _undivided_ approval.

That made him sick in a way that wasn't right - a way that he wasn't allowed to feel anymore. It didn't matter that it used to be just him and Keith - they had a team now, and Keith had the right to want everyone's best, not just Shiro's.

Still, it unjustly stung. Enough that Shiro turned to anger.

He knew better than to take Lance's goading too far, ignoring him when he asked, "Missing Keith yet, or was it finally time for another break?"

In another life, he would have fought him on those standings alone.

But he was their leader first, and Keith's friend second.

Matt was off with Hunk and Pidge most of the time, or else he would have herded him away, maybe caught up with him as a distraction.

He would have preferred to do anything as a distraction, other than wall himself away in his room.

Which is exactly what he did.

He wasn't used to being alone since Keith had come along - he wasn't good at it anymore. There used to always be something _other_ to focus on - whether that be piloting or homework - but Keith had taken every initiative away from him that wasn't centered around each other.

He didn't doubt that in some way, Keith felt the same. They were for each other before all else. That went without saying.

But Keith shined in a way Shiro didn't want to stop looking at, stop chasing after.

They were still in the Garrison when Shiro realized it was a crush.

He took it to Kerberos with him, and now he lead Voltron with it - hidden away where it couldn't affect their dynamic.

"Stupid," Shiro muttered, prying off panels of armor, stripping down to his bodysuit before flopping onto his bed.

The sheets didn't smell like him. They were fresh, some Altean fabric cleaner was all he could sense.

When Keith had brought Shiro back to his own room after they found him in the Galra pod, Shiro had stayed there until he had cleaned up, and Keith was convinced he didn't need his sustained assistance.

Shiro hated being coddled, but knowing Keith was coming back to check on him, knowing Keith thought Shiro _belonged_ in his bed - it was enough to make him smile every time Keith walked through the door.

Now that he was back in his own bed, the sheets were changed regularly by Coran, and he did his best to ignore how the Castle couldn't quite be labeled as _home_.

Even less so, now that Keith had left.

Sighing, Shiro unzips the front of his bodysuit, tugging his arms out of the sleeves.

It was hard to reconcile that he was still like this - both he and Keith were in their twenties. They were capable of having a talk about this.

But the idea of losing Keith wasn't worth the confession.

Shiro tried to clear his head as he slid his hand under his uniform, tried to think of anything but black hair, wide eyes -

It never worked, but he could always give himself credit for trying.

He jumped at the first touch - he never really did this, he was usually too tired, or busy - but playing with his head made his face flush and eyes flutter shut as he pictured Keith walking in on him like this, touching himself for him.

Shiro's feet dug into the mattress as he stroked himself, wishing Keith were there to hold his legs down. He bristled as the air came on through the vent above his head, making his skin prickle.

He wanted Keith's warmth.

Shiro could feel it when they hugged - how the heat poured off his body like open flames. He felt in transfer under his hand, like he started a fire on his shoulder where he had touched him.

Shiro moaned, hand working faster than his thoughts could keep with, and absently blurted out, "Keith," like an idiot.

His face was red before he could register what he had said, and calmed himself, keeping his hand working.

"Keith," This time, Shiro mumbles it low enough that even he has a hard time hearing it. He shouldn't let himself say his name in the first place - it makes this all the more real, pushes Keith even farther away - he isn't there to reply with an echo of Shiro's name.

Nonetheless, he can't help but shudder at the idea of Keith exhaling his name on a off-breath, chest hitching.

He shifts his shoulders further down the bed, head barely resting on his pillow. He wondered if Keith would straddle his lap and pin his arms above his head like they did in sparring sessions. He wondered if Keith knew what that _did_ to Shiro, how hard it was to push that aside for his best friend.

His hips involuntarily lifted, and he forced them back down.

 _Patience_ , he tells himself.

He had never been good at listening to his own advice.

Shiro removes his hand, instead flattening his palm on his clothed cock just to rut into the heel of his hand, hissing at his own frantic pace. He wants to get off, but his mind berates him.

_You don't deserve him._

Grunting at the thought, Shiro works on shoving his pants down his thighs, doing his best to ignore himself. He _wants_ Keith. It doesn't matter if he isn't good enough for him - he's past denying himself an imaginary affection. It's all he has left.

Shiro doesn't allow himself indulgences.

Except Keith.

Keith, who smiles differently for Shiro. Keith, who waited for him; _searched_ for him.

Keith, who anticipates his touches, leans into his hand.

Keith, who Shiro wants to kiss, wants to touch without worrying, wants to be with forever.

_Keith, Keith, Keith._

His hands was already wrapped around his cock again, thumb pressing on a vein as he moved up and down, knowing Keith would have its path memorized with his tongue.

Shiro gasped, grinding his his teeth as his stomach clenches, pulling himself back off the edge of coming.

His wrist faintly cramps and he lets go for a moment, swallowing with a dry mouth as his head hits a cool pillow. He closes his eyes, and images of Keith fighting, Keith piloting, Keith hugging him emerge, unsolicited.

Nothing new.

He sighs, flexing his hand as his cock leaks, painfully neglected.

He wondered if Keith would tease him like this, or if he couldn't stand to see him left wanting. If he never wanted him to be alone.

His heart tripped over the idea.

Part of him hoped for a cruel Keith, one that _would_ leave him like this, desperate only for him. Leaving Shiro to cry his name, begging for him to touch him again. Shiro would do it, too - pant Keith's name until his voice was gone, until he only breathed to say his name.

Shiro reached down to cup his balls, shakily letting out a stream of air as he lowered his hands, pressing against himself, opening himself up.

Rolling his head to his side, his mouth parted quietly as he fingered himself, going as slow as he imagined Keith would - being overly gentle, caring.

He'd let Keith have anything he wanted, if he were being completely honest with himself.

He didn't like using his Galra hand - not for anything but during battle - but he tentatively curled it around his dick, stroking himself at the same time, trying to sync with his other hand. He could feel himself sweating, losing himself imagining Keith doing all this for him, _wanting_ to do all of this.

"Keith," Shiro whined, and maybe it was louder than before, but Shiro gave it to himself as a gift. He could picture Keith smiling down at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he thrust into him, wanting to never lose sight of Shiro again. He almost choked on his tongue as he repeated, " _Keith_ ," with a growing intensity.

He had two of his fingers down to the knuckle when he knew he was close, groaning at the stretch when he tried for a third, thumbing the slit on his cock to distract himself.

The cold metal of his own hand betrayed him, ruining the perfect idea of Keith looming over him, hands wrapped around him.

"Fuck," Shiro spat, but he couldn't stop himself in time to regain the image - he came hard, splattering over his own fist and stomach, his fingers sore from thrusting.

He grunted as he bent over to pick a towel off the floor to clean himself, arm aching in a way he knows he'll be embarrassed by once his afterglow wears off.

As he rubs his skin, belatedly, he wishes Keith were here to wipe his cum off him and feed it back to him - as pathetic as that is - and kiss him, both of them tasting each other on their tongues.

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. God, he needed a cold shower.

More importantly, he needed Keith back.

**Author's Note:**

> i realized when thinking of a prompt for this that s4 is the first time keith left shiro? and that made me emo so here we are
> 
> i really do feel bad but like... if there are mistakes tell me one day i'll write things BEFORE their date uuuuuuughg
> 
> tumblr: paladinlion


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